


Getting Out of Dodge

by FictionDaze



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Gen, M/M, will add tags as story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:42:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionDaze/pseuds/FictionDaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse has spent two months in rehab and things on the outside have been changing. When Walt finally picks him up, a whole new adventure begins.</p><p>AU that takes place after season two, following cannon up to that point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Out of Dodge

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first Breaking Bad fiction! I just finished watching seasons one and two on Netflix and this plot bunny hopped into my head. I humbly request, please don't post spoilers in the comments. I have managed to stay blissfully spoiler-free for this show and I'd like to see it through that way. I'm going to finish writing this story before I watch season three so the ideas don't get muddled. Basically this is an eventual Walt/Jesse heavy version of how I think season three should go. Enjoy!

The Arizona sun was too bright against Jesse’s tungsten-stained eyes. He squinted through the glimmer of the dirt and took in the sight of Mr. White’s criminally average vehicle. The bald bastard looked as stoic as he always did. Jesse felt the urge to turn and run back into the safety of the building behind him. Instead, he discarded his better judgment, pulled open the passenger side door, and climbed inside. “Hey, Mr. White,” he cringed at how fragile his voice sounded.

Walt didn’t flinch. He eyed the younger man with his usual mixture of scrutiny and dissonance. Jesse’s hair was traditionally ruffled and his eyes looked flighty, but Walt could see it was different from his former drugged-out skittish reflex. The boy was honestly nervous. Good. The older man needed him alert. “Let’s get lunch,” Walt offered.

It was strange for the two to be in public together, stranger still that Mr. White was the one orchestrating the meeting. The older man placed a basket full of nachos in front of his companion and took a seat across from him in the outdoor eatery. 

Jesse eyed the food nervously.

“It isn’t going to bite,” Mr. White snapped.

“I know!” Still, it took Jesse a moment to gather his appetite enough to start eating. Once the food was on his tongue though, he was indulgent.

“Slow down,” Walt said softly. “I’m not going to take it.”

Jesse slowed his chomping and wiped his greasy fingers on a napkin. He struggled to swallow a clump of cheese before he huffed, “Sorry, Mr. White. They haven’t let me have anything but health crap at that fancy-ass rehab center. Guy starts to miss his oils.”

Walt only nodded.

“Right so, what’s up?”

“I need to talk to you.”

Jesse looked around in confusion, then glared back deliberately at his mentor. “So, talk?”

Walt sighed and began to fold a napkin between his fingers. The brown material fluttered in the dull breeze. Walt wondered briefly what sort of recycled garbage the thing was made out of. It felt gritty between his fingers. He glanced up from the napkin and caught Jesse’s gaze with his.

“Is this about, ya know, making more—“  
“No.” Walt spoke firmly. He glanced quickly around, leaned forward half an inch and hissed, “Do not talk about that here.”

“Ok! Jeeze.” Jesse put his hands up in a sign of surrender. “Don’t have to bite my head off. So what the heck do you want?”

Damn kid was making him regret the choice before he even said it out loud. “I want you to come live with me.”

Jesse’s eyebrows collided in the space between his eyes. He hunched up his shoulders and leaned down against the table conspiratorially as if Mr. White was suddenly talking business right there in the open. “What?”

Walt’s voice stayed firm. “Unless you’d prefer the center for another two months?”

“Nah man.” Jesse leaned back in his seat and plucked a chip from his basket. “But, I don’t see your old lady being too keen on the plan.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Walt stuffed the napkin roughly under his own food tray and stared down at his untouched meal. 

“Whoa. Did the whole world go through the Twilight Zone while I was in there? Mr. White, patron saint family man, doesn’t care about what his hoe has to say?” Jesse couldn’t help but snicker, at least until Walt’s hands slammed down hard on the table and shook the younger man’s nerves.

“Don’t!” A few other customers turned their attention in the men’s direction and Walt lowered his voice. “Don’t. Don’t talk about her. You don’t understand. It isn’t your business.”

Walt expected Jesse’s normal look of frustration, but instead the blond dropped his gaze and mumbled a weak apology. The chemist felt guilt clutch tightly at his chest. He was supposed to be helping the boy, not terrifying him. 

When Walt sunk back in his seat and pressed his fingers to the bride of his nose, Jesse seemed to find his gull again. He leaned forward, licked his lips contemplatively, and studied Walt’s posture. “She left you, didn’t she?”

Walt rubbed his face slowly, irritably.

“Holy shit! Are you divorced or what?”

“Separated,” Walt groaned. 

Jesse ran his tongue between his teeth and nodded. “Separated. Okay. So you want to shack up with me?”  
“I need to make sure you don’t relapse,” Walt said. He dropped his hand to his side and locked his gaze on his companion.

“I’m not going to say no, man. I’m sick of that place. Can’t even take a piss without them watching. They don’t trust me. Not that it’ll be much different with you, I guess…”

“I trust you Jesse.”

The words startled the younger man. It was probably the kindest, most genuine thing he’d heard Mr. White say since he’d been in the guy’s class, or that he’d ever said really.

“So, where are you staying anyway?” Jesse’s eyes focused on his food as he picked through it, averting his attention from Walt’s unsettlingly kind stare.

“An apartment. It’s nice. I did a little a spending I probably shouldn’t have, but we’ll make it up.”

Jesse wanted to ask when they’d make it and more importantly how. Were they going to keep cooking? The words that came out instead were amused and somewhat bitter. “So, she kicked you out of your own house. Wow, Mr. White, nice job wearing the pants.”


End file.
